Chimera
by Andraste
Summary: Xavier is held prisoner. Warning: contains material that may disturb some readers.


WARNING: This story is rated R. It contains depiction of male/male rape. I'd  
  
strongly suggest caution if scenes of this variety are likely to upset you.  
  
This story is set at some point after Ultimate X-Men #20 for anyone who  
  
cares.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
Chimera  
  
By Andraste  
  
He didn't need to test the collar to know that it had no lock or catch to release. His hands weren't tied but given that there was no wheelchair here that wouldn't make much difference to his mobility. Even if he could have walked, though, there was no obvious way out - the basement was sealed. No stairs, no ladder, not so much as a hatch in the dully gleaming roof. It was all hard edges and cold concrete, empty apart from a bare mattress on the floor and a flickering fluorescent bulb affixed to the wall. If it hadn't been made of brick that was more appropriate to an average suburban house, the word 'dungeon' would have sprung to mind. The air felt limited already, and if he was left down here long enough he supposed that he would run out.  
  
Before that could become a serious concern, a section of the metallic ceiling tore itself open with a hideous screeching sound and a flash of electrical sparks. Magneto floated down in full battle regalia, and shut the impromptu door behind him. It closed up like water running together, without a sound.  
  
"Xavier," he said shortly, voice filled with all its old resonance, feet not quite touching the ground.  
  
"Erik, I ..." Charles's voice was cut off as the collar around his neck suddenly tightened.  
  
"I am Magneto. You will speak when I tell you to speak."  
  
He managed to nod, and the pressure abated.  
  
"Take off your clothes."  
  
Charles hesitated, and there was another interval where he couldn't inhale or speak. The metal was digging into his flesh, but not breaking the skin.  
  
"I will not ask again. You will do as I tell you, or I will leave. This time I will turn off the light. Would you like to know how long it will take you to suffocate in the dark?"  
  
He started to pull his turtleneck over his head, skin flushing pink. Getting undressed was awkward when you couldn't move or feel any of the muscles below the middle of your back. Humiliating in front of an audience, particularly this one. Charles didn't look at Magneto once while he unlaced his shoes, shed his socks and wriggled out of his pants and underwear. It was an avoidance he would pay for.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
Charles looked.  
  
Magneto looked back.  
  
Propped up on one hand among his scattered clothes, instinct told him to pull his knees up toward his chest and shield himself. That wasn't easy for a cripple, however, and it would displease the man with the bitter blue eyes. Charles watched in silence as the scarlet and purple uniform Magneto wore began to drip and melt, pooling by his feet and revealing skin inch by inch. He was naked underneath and ...  
  
"Come over here."  
  
He dragged himself over the concrete, unable to feel the scrapes it was leaving on his legs, until he was in front of his captor.  
  
"Mouth, Charles."  
  
Magneto was half-hard already. Charles ran a dry tongue over dry lips and began tentatively. The other man stood as straight as ever, still hovering so his feet just cleared the floor. He made no noise or other sign that he was affected by this, although his arousal grew stronger. Charles moved one hand off the floor and ran a finger along the shaft, tracing a vein while his tongue toyed with the head, only to feel the collar jerk his head back. Magneto's hand slapped him, not hard enough to bruise but still stinging.  
  
"When I want you to use your hands, I'll say so." His voice was perfectly steady.  
  
Bracing himself on the floor again, he returned to the task, swallowing Magneto relatively easily in spite of the dryness in his mouth. He'd had practice. He tried to think of something else. This wasn't going to be so simple, though. Before long Magneto shivered slightly and pulled away.  
  
"Lie down on the mattress."  
  
Charles didn't move immediately, yet Magneto didn't tighten the collar again. He just looked at his prisoner coolly until Xavier gave up and dragged himself across the floor again and lay face down.  
  
"Turn over." Apparently he wasn't going to get away with not watching.  
  
Xavier had no illusions that the soft surface was for his benefit - not that he could feel much of it anyway. It was to save Magneto's knees. The other man knelt between Charles legs, parting them casually.  
  
When Magneto grabbed his wrists with one hand, Charles found himself struggling instinctively - his upper body strength was considerable, since it had to compensate for his useless lower half, but all Magneto had to do was summon a strand of his own discarded costume to bind his prey.  
  
"No. Hands." His voice sounded shaky for the first time, but the tone was enough to make Charles go limp. He hadn't even needed to use the collar.  
  
After that they waited. Charles shut his eyes.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
He opened them again. "You will keep your eyes open. You will watch. Say it."  
  
"I ... will watch."  
  
"You deserve this."  
  
"I ..."  
  
"Say it!"  
  
"I deserve this."  
  
"You deserve this. For what you did to me. I was right to take my revenge then, I am right to take it now."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You want this."  
  
"... yes."  
  
"You love me."  
  
"... love you ..."  
  
His voice was soft, Magneto's blue gaze intense, but that seemed to be enough. He lay back quietly, heart pounding, as Erik pushed inside of him. He couldn't feel himself down so low, but he could see, and he could feel Magneto's weight and where the other man's hands pressed him down against the mattress and sense the texture of his own skin and the texture of himself inside through nerve endings that were not his own, and then he closed his eyes and the collar tightened and he couldn't *breathe* ...  
  
His hands came free all at once. He pushed Magneto away and curled over on himself, sobbing and gasping.  
  
Half an hour later, Xavier still lay there, rubbing his wrists and frowning, the endorphin rush long gone. The weather was cooling into autumn, but the marks were still too far down for comfort. The bruises on his neck created more than enough work. Hiding them from everyone with telepathy was tiring, and he'd have to keep his sleeves rolled down if there was a camera nearby. He'd thought that he'd solved that programming error last time, impressed upon Erik the compulsion to injure him only where no-one would see, and to minimise any real damage. He would need to be more careful if he was going to keep doing this. If it got much worse he would have to stop. He could stop.  
  
Gently, he reached out with his mind to examine the other man's psyche, sliced precisely into layers. He quietly reasserted the powerless puppet that lived Erik Lensherr's day to day life in blissful ignorance. Against his better judgement, he reached lower, searching for the sealed compartment that cradled the fully intact personality of the man he'd known years ago. Still safe. Still waiting. One day ...  
  
Erik's watch ticked the seconds away, but Charles lingered, not yet able to face the cleanup ritual, the journey out of the box and back to the mansion. Before he knew it, he was crying again, in a way that had nothing to do with physical discomfort or immediate emotional release. This was getting to be a habit. A bad one.  
  
He wrapped his arms around the other body on the mattress. Erik was sleeping like a baby, rolled over on his stomach, and Charles brushed the long, soft hair away from his neck and kissed him, then rested his head against the planes of the other man's back.  
  
He could afford five more minutes.  
  
The End 


End file.
